Coffee Stained Converse
by FersureZelda
Summary: I laugh at how simple we thought this would be. Light, you've never stopped intriguing me. Here you are in a hospital bed and you still beg of me to continue with this plot."How must you're mind work?" I mutter to myself. - Lawliet.
1. Operation Car Crash

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor any Band, Brand, or Label I may write about.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

**Operation** (Car) /**_Crash_**/

* * *

.

...

The car came in a matter of second(s).

The glare on his lenses left him disoriented and unable to breathe.

He stood there dumbfounded. Yet, it's (not) as if he could have dodged the vehicle in time anyway.

_Either way_, he was screwed.

...

.

My best friend, Light, was hit by a drunk driver Saturday (morning).

He was walking to Misa's when a vehicle came blazing out of Weathering Heights. They tried to stop, but the curse of

(intoxication) took its toll in the end. A delayed reaction left the man clutching his invisible brakes at the (police station)

thirty minutes later, which ended up resulting in a drug test.

.

...

My... name, well, it's unimportant. Don't even bother guessing,

this (isn't) some deranged kid's book where the magic word will save future drooling babies everywhere.

All you need to know is that life isn't always spelled out in front of you. You can't always steal glances at your lines to figure

out your next move. Sometime(s), the coffee spills on the entire manuscript.

...

.

**"What are you _staring_ at, jerk?"**

I snap back to the (life) passing before me by a kid obnoxiously picking his nose and acting like he's one hardcore munchkin.

The boy, he's like seven years old, if that. He's got his hat on backwards and is wearing clothes with word(s) he's never even heard of.

_"Sorry, kid."_

.

...

I grab a magazine before the child snaps some other rude remark my way,

or the mother accuses me of having a "thing" for the kid I apparently keep staring at. The magazine I grabbed happens to

be _Seventeen_. Great, now I get to read about Paris Hilton's new (dog). I wish the doctor would just let me go. There's

nothingwrong with me, my best friend is the one in the hospital bed.

Whatever.

...

.

I finally get to leave

after (30) minutes of random _doodling_ on girls in the magazine.

**"Hey, _Lawliet_, wait,"**

I hear Light yell as I was about to head out of the hospital.

_"Yeah?"_

**"Don't forget."**

_"I won't."_

..

.

With those words said, I at last get to make my escape from this stench infested place.

I pull out the cellular phone from my back pocket and dial Misa's number. She's probably freaking out by now, considering Light

was suppose to have been at her house by now. That girl is in love with Light. Hmm... maybe (love) isn't the right word;

let's just say, she's attached to his wrist like a handcuff.

.

...

_"Misa?"_

**"Hello? Lawliet, is that you?"**

_"Yes, Misa."_

I sometime(s) forget

I have to talk in enunciated sentences

for her to (understand) what I'm saying.

Things just seem to fly past her eyes,

such a_ careless_ girl.

**"Where's Light?"**

...

.

After ten minutes, I was able to explain everything to her... well, (almost) everything. She did not know who it was that ran over her boyfriend,

nor did she know that we knew who that person was. I gave her enough information to shut her up,

and believed (every) single word of it. She's such a dimwit, that girl. Though, that comes to our advantage, I must say.

Afterall, we could never risk something like (that) to become public knowledge.

.

...

I open the envelope Light told me to get from his jacket.

He said that he did not want taking the (chance) of it being read by one of the members of the hospital staff.

I skim through the lettering and the photograph attached with a paper clip.

I smirk, and place everything back in its nicely addressed envelope. "_This'll be good_," I think. . I never thought he had it in him,

perhaps I misjudged him. I suppose I (should) mail this.

...

.

I get into my nice (sports) car, and drive to the closest post office.

_"Hello, sir, could you mind helping me?"_

**"Why, of course. What do you need son?"**

_"Please mail this for me. Here is a 100; _

_that should be enough for postage and as well as,_

_express mailing."_

**"I'll be sure to do just that. Thank you."**

.

...

I glance at the man; he's getting to work at what I am too lazy to do.

Just as I thought, strangers always seem over eager to assist those who have extra cash to contribute.

Perhaps, I should be doing these insignifcant tasks myself but, why bother when others are willing to do so for you?

Once I am sure he has done what he was told, I walk out the building.

...

.

I laugh at how simple we thought this would be.

Light, you've never stopped intriguing me. Here you are in a hospital bed and you still beg of me to continue with this plot.

_"How must you're mind work?"_ I mutter to myself.

Throughout gradeschool, we were told we were that of the same mold.

Still, there's something _different_ about you. Yet... I still have not been able to grasp what exactly that is.

What makes you tick, Light Yagami?

..

.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

This is something new.

Different from my typical works.

Tell me what you think.

REVIEW PLEASE?


	2. Bed Written

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor any place, band, brand, or label I may write about.

* * *

**Chapter 2:**

**(B**ed)**/W**ritten**/.**

* * *

_Matsuda, _

_Listen very carefully. There's something peculiar going on. _

_I can't seem to explain it very well in words, nor do I feel comfortable informing you through the use of __the post office. _

_I will only tell you what is necessary right now, understand? A man by the name of Mikami was driving a black Toyota Hybrid Saturday evening._

_His car picked up speed once he got closer to where I was walking and swerved, which to no surprise meant injuring me. _

_I am in the Toyko Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital. __Matsuda, do you know who this Mikami Teru is? _

_There is a photograph of him enclosed in the envelope. __Also, I ask you to please come to Tokyo as soon as you __can. _

_Lawliet, you, and I need to discuss this further._

_- Light Yagami_

_._

_.._

After I left the post office, I went (home) to the apartment.

All this excitement had me yearning for some Ramen and coffee. Weird mixture, eh? Whatever.

I grab the styrofoam cup, fill it with hot water, and cover the top with a small plate.

As I am (about) to eat my noodles, the phone rings.

..

.

**"Hey there!"**

I sigh, does this girl ever quit?

_"Oh, hello Misa."_

**"So, I just got done with the photo shoot.**

**The critics are LOVING me.**

**They're considering giving me a raise,**

**Can you believe it?"**

Did she upgrade to pornography, I wonder?

I smirk.

"_Misa, did you really call me _

_just to speak about your career__?"_

_**"Well, no, there is something else."**_

_._

_.._

Perhaps, I am a bit inconsiderate when it comes to Misa.

Truth be told, I could (careless) about her stupid job. It's nothing special, after all. She was born with the right assets, that's all.

I bet if I had boobs and whore skimpy skirts, I'd get paid the big bucks too. Would I where plaid, I wonder?

_Shutter_ I should probably stop thinking of myself as a (drag)queen.

Anyway, this model business is all that she has going for her. She could never be a (brain surgeon).

..

.

She told me that Light was getting out of the hospital in a week.

That he'll be back at (school) and everything. It really wasn't as bad as the doctors believed.

I wonder whether Mikami will show up at campus as well? I presume so, he probably will pay bail and leave jail without a scratch.

After all, he was under the influence by (accident), at least that is what was (said) on the police report.

.

..

I finish up my Ramen and get another cup of coffee.

Then, I open up the laptop and log onto Facebook after a few clicks. Yes, even crazy college kids with schemes have Facebook.

_1 New Friend Request. _

A picture of a boy with shaggy silver hair and intense eyes is displayed next the request; I click accept.

I continue staring at this boy, in attempt to figure out why he looks so damn familiar.

..

.

_"Who is this?"_ I type.

**"Near."**

_"I don't mean to be rude, but do I know you?"_

**"No, probably not. Doubt you'd recall."**

What is that suppose to mean?

_"I have to go work. Uh, nice talking to you."_

**"Sure, I'll see you there."**

Wait a minute... what?

.

..

I put on the lovely (badge) that says my name on it and take a sip of my coffee.

I hate my stupid name tag. It's the kind you see old ladies wear that's decorated with stickers and smiley faces.

I swear it's disgusting. _"Would you be interested in bejeweling your name tag for a low price of 5.99, sir?"_

Fuck that.

..

.

I take a look in the (mirror) before I leave.

My hair swishes in front of my eyes. The tangles are lost in disarray, not knowing which (direction) to take.

It's so indulged in (darkness), almost as if it were absorbing the midnight each time the sun disappears from its sight.

As I keep looking at it, I realize any attempt to comb it would be (useless). So, I walk away... satisfied.

After all, this grudgy appearance is what I've always kept.

.

..

I drive the Eclipse out to work.

God, I really must look like a joke, parking my nice 2007 Eclipse Spyder in a (hot-dog) stand parking lot.

I work at Mr. Weenie's, a local hotdog stand. Go ahead, get a good laugh. I frankly, do not care what you have to say.

My (foster) parents offered me one of those suit and tie jobs in the same corporation they are a part of.

Still, I could never be that. I prefer my attire all too much.

A big shot kid prefers to work with weenies for a living rather than get a real job;

_What must people think?_ This thought only amuses me even (more)_._

_.._

_._

I make my way to the my area to begin preparing this (exquisite) gourmet.

After a few hours pass, I begin to get quite bored. Same customers, same routine.. how dull.

I sit down after attending my (last) regular, craving for it to be break so I could light a cigarette.

I count down the time. Only (60) seconds to go.

Then.

He comes out of nowhere.

.

..

**"Hello, Lawliet.**

**Before you shut that door behind you.**

**May I have a rootbeer float?"**

_"The skimpy girls in shorts take the orders, kid._

_Go find one of them."_

_.._

_._

* * *

I'm not sure what I think of it yet.

**REVIEW PLEASE?**


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